Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Ode to Johnny Walker

I seem to see past someone, in a darkened cabaret,
Misty smoke surrounds her, keeps getting in my way.
I slide to the bartender, say pour a glass for me,
I'm pretty sure I came with her, but she ain't come with me.

Her lips are slightly parted, eyes follow swaying hips,
I hold myself from exploration with eager fingertips.
My drink is on the table, My soul is on the line,
I damn well know she'll bring me low but, man, I'm doing fine.

Sweet burning fire upon my lips, it travels down so smooth.
I feel invigorated but I still do not feel you.
The softest evanescence as electrified you move
Until the beat invades my feet, a subtle little groove.

The silky frigid heat of where I want so bad to be.
The curses and distain for who I am that rise in me,
The telling revelation of the life that has no key,
But the bottle has no bottom, though I’m falling I’m not free.

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